


ａｕｇｅａｎ

by Cei



Series: Vocabulary [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Death, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:17:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3464087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cei/pseuds/Cei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adj. extremely difficult, unpleasant, or filthy.</p><p>"Let us play a game, you and I."</p><p>Akashi vs. Reader</p>
            </blockquote>





	ａｕｇｅａｎ

At first, he viewed the entire game as a one-sided challenge. You posed no threat to him; you were but a filthy peasant that belonged under his heel. His impression was quick to change when he listened to the words fly out your lips.  
   
The words that instantly spelled out your demise.  
   
You grinned at him then, inviting him to ‘try what he might’ for you seemed to be so sure that he had no capability of harming your state any further. Physically you were well: nothing crippling or particularly worrying except for that ridiculous amount of bandages wrapped around your wrists. He demanded an answer to this, but you only gave him a taunting smile in response. The answers would be revealed once he had beaten you, and he was nowhere close to cornering you into a checkmate. Akashi would take every measure and moment to make sure you recognized both your place and doom, but you easily laughed off his threats.  
   
This game continued all throughout high school, and he soon found it extending into his early adult years. He felt annoyed to see you easily defy his will, and he was hellbent on making you pay for both defacing and mocking him. Again, you told him to ‘do his worst’ to you. The redhead only could wonder what or who made you so mentally strong, leaving him quite infuriated with his opponent.  
   
No one would dare defy his will,  _no one._  
   
The power of money is a terrifying thing, and the price he paid for the information he sought was nothing but pocket change. He viewed your information with annoyance, resolving that the past you faced truly made you a formidable foe on the battlefield.  
   
He still intended to crush you.  
   
Would he stoop low to deal psychological harm to you? Of course not. Your father was the man responsible for all that strength of yours, and he only wanted to destroy that man for creating such a defiant human being.  
   
That man’s head was soon his trophy.  
   
He truly was scum on this earth that did not deserve the special privilege known as free will. He molded his children with sexual intentions, physical brutality, and his greed. Both children happened to be female; one didn’t survive his sick extreme fetish and insatiable lust. The other-you-was left to face brutal beatings and verbal abuse. You soon underwent the same treatment your younger unnamed sister was given, but the sheer willpower you had kept you living.  
   
 _‘Who the fuck are you?’_  
   
He remembered the first time he laid eyes on your form.

_'Disgusting.’_  
   
 _‘Dirty.’_  
   
If anything, he saw you better dead. The amount of alcohol that destroyed your liver was something not be laughed at. He looked at you with such distain and pity that you couldn’t help but share the same fiery hatred he had for you. He was assigned to be your caretaker until death after all.  
   
 _‘It is a favor I owe her mother.’_  
   
And he wondered why and how he would keep that promise. You were supposed to be weak, but you proved him wrong with your sharp tongue and brazen personality. The man known as your father molded you into a pitiful bedridden creature that longed for death. He secretly wished to free you from the terrors of the past, but that would be his defeat if he did such a thing.  
   
 _‘I know what you’re thinking of. Do it already.’_  
   
No, he’d wait to completely shatter you.  
   
It wasn’t long until you caught the attention of his teammates. They all treated you gently and carefully, and it was obvious to see that you weren’t used to that sort of kind treatment. You awkwardly responded to them, usually pulling away or pushing them away when they attempted some form of physical contact.  
   
 _‘It never leaves you.’_  
   
Akashi was sure. Taking your own daughter at a ripe and non-marriageable age would be sure to leave scars.  
   
Either way, he sat there by your bedside for the four-hundredth time with his ever-present scowl on his lips. Your condition-after a long twelve-years-took a turn for the worst.  
   
With this, he advanced his Queen forward and toppled your Rooks and obliterated the rest of your standing pieces. You were now completely hopeless, but the chance for you to be saved was there.  
   
 _‘Don’t expect me to beg you.’_  
   
Red.  
   
He was infuriated with your disobedience and was fed up with your attitude.  
   
The red splattered and stained the white sheets. It covered the clean flooring and painted the white walls. The sound of your laughter-genuine and happy-reverberated in his ears as he watched you smile at him. Painted in red was your pale and thinning form. Traces of your once long (H/C) tresses were violently torn off and scattered on the floor. Long shapes and sizes spilled out from your body, and your eyes bulged to face him with a mocking stare.  
   
 _‘YOU LOSE.’_  
   
The sound of screaming, the memories of pain and agony, the guilt of knowing that you were powerless to stop the monster from ravaging your unnamed sibling; he knew the thoughts gnawed at you as you rotted on your hospital bed. He waited for you to beg for rescue, but instead you asked for release.  
   
You stirred his anger on purpose.  
   
Dirty and filthy: that is what you are. You were a difficult individual to break, but you held out much longer than the others. Akashi viewed you to be a worthy adversary, but it was far too late to ask for another match.  
   
“A game I could not win…”  
   
It wasn’t a loss he would mull over, but a loss that would forever be imprinted in his mind.

 

**[end]**   



End file.
